


Calamari: Deep-Fried

by Crysania



Series: Calamari [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 23:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2366297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous prompted: Rumple takes a bath and Stan follows him. The noise and screams makes Belle enter to the bathroom to save Stan or perhaps to save Rumple?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calamari: Deep-Fried

She’s woken up from a sound sleep in the middle of the night. She’s not even sure, really, what it was that drew her out of her sleep. It might have been the crick in her neck from falling asleep, yet again, on the little couch in main room. She does that more and more these days, occasionally waking up in her bed and not being sure how she’s gotten there but far more often waking up in some strange position on the couch.

But this time she’s sure there’s _more_ that woke her up.

A noise…

Or something…

She turns to look at Stan’s tank. He’s often quiet at this hour, but she usually still sees some movement from the water. This time she sees nothing. The water is still. And her heart drops into her stomach.

Rumplestiltskin has been threatening to fry him. Time and time again. The silly octopus escapes his enclosure and entertain himself by sneaking off to wherever Rumplestiltskin has holed himself up and _throwing_ things at the sorcerer. She’s had to rescue him any number of times and had to endure Rumplestiltskin’s glares and posturing and _I am the Dark One dearie, I should not have to put up with this_ _nonsense_.

But never in the middle of the night.

She’s afraid he’s finally had enough, whisking the unfortunate creature off to cook him and have him as a late-night snack. She might just never forgive him for that one. Stan has become an odd sort of friend to her, sharing in her solitude and loneliness.

Not that she’s always lonely.

But Rumplestiltskin does spend long hours in his tower, sometimes leaves all together for a couple days. It’s those moments when she feels most keenly alone and those moments that Stan has helped to alleviate.

So his being gone in the middle of the night like this absolutely frightens her. She trusts Rumplestiltskin with _her_ , but not with Stan. He’s threatened him one too many times. She can’t say she _really_ blames him. The octopus _has_ sent several objects hurtling toward his head. A few actually connected. And it sounded terrible. It’s a good thing he’s the Dark One. Belle’s sure she would have been knocked out cold by at least a few of objects that managed to hit him.

It’s when the scream comes that she _knows_ he’s in trouble. She’s never heard such a thing, something between a sob and a squeal with just a touch of anger. She’s on her feet and rushing off, crick in her neck be damned.

She sets foot on the stairs to the tower when the scream comes again and she realizes it’s not coming from Rumplestiltskin’s tower. It’s not coming from the kitchens either and for that she’s thankful. He’s not using Stan as part of a potion and he’s not using him as part of dinner. That’s at least some reassurance, though the periodic screams she hears is not.

As she moves down the corridors, little used ones, and turns to the right, she begins to hear other noises. She’s sure the screams are coming from Stan, but there’s incoherent shouting too that’s almost as high-pitched and she knows that must be Rumplestiltskin. She remembers the way his voice sounded when he was angry with her, all snide and sarcastic. There’s a stand-off. She’s sure of it.

Rumplestiltskin's temper is not to be trifled with. He suffers black moods and with them come an anger that she has seen from few others. Well, _no_ others if she wants to be honest. When he’s in one of _those_ moods it’s best to steer clear of him and she’s learned to anticipate them and remain scarce. She’ll offer him tea, give him a pretty smile, offer up a nice meal or a foot rub, but she quickly slips away when he snarls at her.

It’s become a bit of a dance, really, with her figuring out what might get him out of the black mood and his resisting until the very last moment.

They’ve come less frequently these days, but they’re always there lurking just beneath the surface. He is an anxious man ( _monster, dearie_ ) and it shows in how he handles even the most minute of change in his routine.

And she’s been far from minute.

She knows he had no idea what exactly he was taking on when he asked for her as his price. For someone who claims he can see the future, he sure seems surprised by her on many occasions. And she's always found that curious, very curious indeed.

Another scream and she snaps to attention, setting her reveries aside in an instant.

She’s in a corridor she’s never been in before. It’s dark with only one door at the end. She’s sure she’s never even noticed it. Or maybe she has and hasn’t bothered with it since it appears there’s little in it. But there's definitely something there at the end. A door. One single door at the end of a long, dark corridor.

There's another scream and she's not sure who if it's made by Rumplestiltskin or Stan. She doesn't even think as she rushes forward and pushes the door open.

"My tentacles are bigger than yours!" Stan is shouting. He's in a bathtub, large and claw-footed, but still far too small for him. He's waving said tentacles in the air, water sloshing out over the tub. Every once in awhile he sends water in the direction of…

"For the last time it's _not a tentacle_!" She finally notices Rumplestiltskin, standing off to the side. He steps into the light as he lets out a few choice curse words.

"Oh," Belle says. Because she's not sure what else to say.

"Belle!" Stan says loudly, enthusiastically.

She wants to turn and look at him, wave, say hello, _anything_. But she can't. Her eyes are glued to Rumplestiltskin, who is staring back at her with his mouth slightly open. He's dripping wet, curling hair hanging limp against his face. But that's not what has her attention.

Not at all.

Her eyes went lower, over the lean planes of his chest, covered in the same mottled skin of his neck and face. He's slim, wiry, and she feels her face burning hotter. But she cannot look away. Cannot stop herself from allowing her gaze to dip lower, to the rough skin that covers his hip bones, his abdomen. And finally to his cock, which she notes has gone from hanging between his legs to slowly rising as her gaze falls on it.

"Oh," she says again and tries to hide her eyes but she just cannot do it. He's fascinating, standing there before her, frozen, naked as the day he was born, dripping wet and aroused and it's all too much for her to contemplate.

"Belle!" he says as he finally manages to move, grabbing frantically for the towel laying nearby and holding it up in front of himself. It's tented. She can still see his arousal. She can see the odd coloration start at his cheeks and go down his neck and to his still uncovered chest. Blushing. Rumplestiltskin is blushing and she never had any idea he could.

"Oh Gods," Belle says and finally manages to avert her eyes. "I don’t…I didn't…I…um…there were screams…"

"Right," Rumplestiltskin says. "Yes…screams."

"My tentacles are bigger!" Stan chimes in with, waving them about in the air again.

Rumplestiltskin bites back a curse.

Belle tries to stifle a giggle.

"It's not a bloody tentacle," Rumplestiltskin mutters.

Belle's not even sure how to respond to that.

For a moment no one moves and then Rumplestiltskin makes a weird shuddering movement and Belle finds she's fascinated at the way the muscles of his chest move during that motion. Then he's waving his hand in the air and Stan is gone from the room.

Just like that near silence and stillness is all that remains, the only sound in the room coming from the still-dripping tub. And from Rumplestiltskin who frankly sounds a bit like he's about to hyperventilate, standing naked there with nothing more than a towel left to hide his dignity.

And she is all too aware of it.

As the silence extends she realizes she's staring and _she cannot stop_.

He finally moves, wrapping the towel tight around his waist and stepping behind the tub. He grips the edges of it hard.

"What did you do with him?" Belle manages to get out and if her voice is just a little bit huskier than usual, she hopes he won't notice.

"What? With who?" He still looks strangely befuddled and she finds the look is rather endearing on him.

"Stan."

"Right. The octopus."

"Right," she responds with and crosses her arms over her chest. Somehow it all feels _safer_ that way. They're treading dangerous territory here and no one is more aware of it than Belle. She has _wondered_ after all…more than she wants to admit really…what he looks like beneath all that leather and brocade.

"He's back where he belongs."

"Oh."

"Yes…oh. He seemed to think any bit of water was fair game for a bath." Rumplestiltskin stalks around the side of the tub toward her. He's trying to look fierce but that's somewhat difficult in his current state of undress.

"Yes well, he _is_ just an octopus," she points out.

He takes another step closer. "Well, dear, he's _your_ responsibility. Keep him out of my bathtub!" The last words are loud and he points his finger at her as he speaks.

Belle just smiles and takes a step forward. They're close now, close enough to touch, and she reaches out and puts a hand on his chest. His skin there is rough, textured, just as she always thought it might be. He freezes in place at her touch as he always does. "Of course," she says and turns to go.

"Belle…wait…"

It's a familiar refrain, being called back. But this time feels different somehow. She doesn't know why. "Yes?" she says as she turns back toward him.

His eyes are slightly wild, his hair starting to dry and curl up along the sides of his face. "This…um…that is…"

She can't help but smile at how clearly uncomfortable he is. "I know." Her voice is soft as she speaks. "I never saw a thing."

And then she slips out of the room before he can say anything else. Perhaps someday he'll be comfortable addressing what _really_ was going on there between them that night.


End file.
